Who is in charge of the Brexit train?
The logistics creak, and the ferries strain.
Ten minutes behind at Dover. Yes!
And we’re twenty now to the bad—no less!
At every mile we a minute must gain!
Who is in charge of the Brexit train?
Why, ego and hubris, as a matter of course!
You may talk of iron, and prate of force;
But, after all, and do what you can….
Ego is in charge of the thundering train!
Ego, in the shape of a rumpled fop
shirttail loose and hair like a mop;
A trifle dim, nobody called his bluff,
Yet, someone thought, of ministerial stuff….
Only Boris, but away at his back,
In Westminster rooms, holding back,
the swivel eyed loons hide daggers aplenty
biding their time till his prattle runs empty….
The failure of talks awakes their cold hearts
Hark! What is that sound- its the mendacious breath
Of a blundering polity—and it smacks of death!
Full four and a half years of wasted talk
Europe is tired and want them to walk,
red lines and fish and state aid remain,
now Boris is in charge of the clattering train!
“No bendy bananas” his heart did invent
to rise to the top was just his intent;
The tabloids screech, and negotiators dance
Faster, faster in circling flight,
As Britain awaits its coming plight.
Failed dinner summits and crossing of wires,
everyone feels the other side’s liars.
Delayed too long and ill prepared.
over promoted and underprepared,
This complex task of negotiating trade,
Much tougher than leather, harder than steel,
Fails at last, on a fisherman’s creel!
He quips and japes on twins and handbags,
not realising its not time for gags!
A dozing electorate plods placidly on,
Unwitting they that their empire’s gone;
A gulled electorate swallowed the lies,
and now dimly see they have no allies.
For the pace is slow, and the cliff edge is near,
with ‘16s result none dare interfere ;
And sterling grinds down foreshadowing pain.
Boris is in charge of the Brexit train!
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